


Captor Bonding

by tattletwink



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Murder Family, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletwink/pseuds/tattletwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will takes Abigail into his custody following her parole from the Port Haven Psychiatric facility.  Frustrated by Will's ambivalence towards her and Hannibal's absence, Abigail seeks to garner Hannibal's attention through increasingly brazen trespasses on Will's person.  Hannibal's decides to teach her a lesson and naturally Will gets caught in the crossfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captor Bonding

“I _need_ clothes,” Abigail said flatly.

            “I know, Abigail, and I told you Alana would take you on Saturday.”

            She regarded him with sullen irritation, arms crossed tightly across her chest. ‘No’ was unacceptable.

            “I can call Freddie, I’m sure she would take me.”

            Will clenched his jaw in response. Abigail, careful to avoid being caught mid-observation, glanced up in time to catch it.  He didn’t notice. 

            Dealing with Abigail was exasperating.  While Will had a clinical understanding of the teenage mind, it had proven to be a useless asset.  Abigail was a hurricane of snarls and silences that would alternate between affection and resentment seemingly at random.  He wondered again why out of the two fathers, he was the one with custody.

            Abigail was bitterly wondering the same thing.

            In lieu of Will’s response, she uncrossed her arms and started texting.  Her phone was never more than an arm’s length away at all times, a fact that caused Will endless anxiety. (“You know she has Freddie Lounds in her phone right?” “She needs to know we trust her, Will. Part of that entails that we allow her the freedoms of any other teenage girl.” Will disagreed, but the phone stayed).   

            Will covered her hands with his own, stopping her mid-text.

            “Get your coat.”

            A victory.  Abigail pocketed her phone, message unfinished.  They drove to the mall in silence with the exception of Abigail’s humming.

 

* * *

 

            A few hours later Will was carrying approximately seven different bags from five different stores and was strongly considering writing up an invoice for Hannibal.  Abigail had a refined taste, something Hannibal would have appreciated.  She picked out beautiful cream and rose blouses and deep jewel-toned skirts and coats.

            Still prickled by the self-consciousness of youth and the memories of her father, Abigail made a point to seize scarves at every store.  Bold and vividly patterned, they were atypical of her wardrobe.  If she had to cover neck she was determined to make it a fashion statement.

            Will watched silently on and was only acknowledged when needed at the till.  Mostly, he loitered in the Men’s section where he was surrounded by clothing antithetical to his own fashion sense, which consisted largely of gingham and plaid.

            Despite the distance, he admired her sense of purpose while shopping and found that he didn’t entirely mind spending hundreds of dollars on his taciturn ward.  That being said, Hannibal owed him.

             Abigail appeared happy.  Not a terrible outing, Will decided.

            “Well, you have plenty of clothes now,” Will asserted after a particularly long session in a designer boutique, “Call it a day?”

            Abigail’s eyes were set on a different destination. “One more store.”

            Will turned. A lingerie store.

            Images of Abigail in the sleek rose bustier adorning one of the mannequins came to Will’s mind unbidden.  Instant self-loathing flared up in his chest.

            He looked away. “Alana can take you on Saturday.”

            “But we’re already here,” Abigail contended, annoyed.

            “I think she’d be a little more helpful in that department.”

            She narrowed her eyes.           

            “You aren’t my dad, you know. You can drop the whole abashed father routine.”

            “Abigail-“ Will warned.

              “I need bras and I’m going to buy them. Wait here.”

            She said it at a volume reserved for conversing in train stations or noisy pubs.  Will flinched, and several passerby shoppers turned to stare.  He could feel the tips of his ears go red. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply.  When he opened them, she was already on her way to the store. He followed her in, briskly ignoring the audience of strangers.

            “Abigail!” Will called out, several women looked up from the lacy wares. He found Abigail, looking at a wall of corsets and garters, already clutching a couple of items. “We need to talk.”

            Will was angry. He had high color on his cheeks, and though he often avoided eye contact with her, he didn’t spare her on this instance.  His eyes were such a lovely color, she mused. He gripped her forearm and angled her away from the sight of the other customers. 

            Impressive grip, too.

            “I know that you don’t want to live with me and that’s tough,” Will’s voice was deceptively level, “but this is unacceptable behavior.  If you want, we can figure something else out, but as long as you’re under my care, Abigail, you will treat me with a modicum of respect.”

            “Get your hand off me,” she muttered.

            She looked very small all of sudden, and he felt a pang of guilt.  He eased his grip.

            “I’m sorry,” she added as if an afterthought.

            “I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.” Will continued, despite his better judgment.  Hannibal had told him he needed to be firm, that Abigail was likely to lash out unless he established parameters.

            “I said I’m sorry,” Abigail repeated, a little louder. “Can I try these on now?” The sullen teenager was replaced by something else, something more disconcerting.  Abigail had seen her opening.

            Will wasn’t sure what he read in Abigail’s gaze, but something had flitted by. She averted her gaze.

            A middle-aged saleslady interjected. “Can I get you a room started?”

            Abigail deferred to Will.

            “Yeah, sure.” He forced a brief smile and contemplated the events in his life that had led to this moment.

            Abigail left with the saleslady and was ushered into a fitting room.  Will ran a hand through his hair, irritated.  His tangle with Abigail wasn’t sitting well. He contemplated calling Hannibal, but decided against it.

            Twenty minutes or so later, Abigail emerged and Will gave her his credit card to pay.  The tiny silver bag accompanied the larger shopping bags into the car.  Will felt foolish about the outburst in the mall and tried to ignore the reminder of his less than savory imagination. 

            They drove home listening to a classic rock station.  At home, Abigail thanked him and gave him a curt hug before retreating to her room.  Will poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey and sat with the dogs on the deck and wondered how long it would take for Abigail to forgive him.

 

* * *

 

            The next few days passed with relative peace.  Will occupied his days teaching classes and reading over papers while Abigail, having yet to decide whether or not to pursue secondary education in the fall, poured over college prep-books.  They seldom spoke beyond what was necessary, and though it was civil, Will found it discomforting. 

            Abigail, despite her petite frame, clouded every room she was in with her presence.  Her scent pervaded Will’s mind and memories; guilt, and empathy blurred into a fragrant mental elixir.  It wore on his nerves like a string pulled taut against a sharp edge.  It wasn’t her fault and Will didn’t blame her, but that didn’t negate its impact. 

            They lived in a small house and despite his attempts, Will seldom found the physical privacy he craved.  Abigail found ways to follow him around the house, usually through innocuous errands such as retrieving books or opening windows, and reprieve would escape him.

            Freddie and Alana would come visit her in turns (Will much preferred the latter over the former) and take her on outings.  Hannibal, who had frequented on a reliable biweekly schedule, had been absent from the Graham household for three weeks now. Will and Hannibal still met frequently, which is why he didn’t register the growing anxiety in Abigail at her other father’s absence.

            “When am I going to go live with Hannibal?” she asked one night, over an untouched plate of lasagna.  Despite underlying awkwardness, Abigail and Will always dined together in a flimsy pastiche of familial habits.

            Will looked up from his plate, “I didn’t know that that was part of the plan,”  he replied, balking at the question. They had never discussed the issue after determining that Will’s house and company offered greater insulation from the media and other destabilizing forces.

            Abigail blinked quickly, smoothing her hands on her lap.

            Guilt oozed along his rib cage with familiar hands.  Will wasn’t a master at concealing his emotions and the fact that Abigail was aware of his constant aloofness didn’t surprise him.

            She was hurt and trying not to show it, he realized.

            “I have an appointment with him later,” he added, “if you want I can ask him if he’d like to visit?”

            Abigail looked away, her hair a harsh sheet curtaining her features, “Don’t bother.” She looked away as though the cabinets had suddenly become incredibly interesting. “If he wanted to visit he would,”

            “He cares about you Abigail,” Will said softly, setting down his utensils. “Things are busy right now, but I know when he can get away to see you, he will,”

            “Can I finish this later?” She asked stiffly and motioned at the plate in front of her.

            “Sure.”

            Abigail left for her room. Will took a sip of his water.

            Although convinced of the first part of his reassurance, Will honestly couldn’t attest for the second.  Hannibal didn’t seem any busier than usual, and, Will thought guiltily, he hadn’t noticed his visits had dropped off until Abigail had mentioned her desire to live with him.

            It was natural that she would miss Hannibal, Will thought ruefully.  He was hardly an amazing caretaker even without the emotional baggage between them.  Will didn’t know how much guidance Abigail needed, and he often provided too much or too little in the way of parenting.  Abigail needed someone who could understand her.           

            Hannibal wasn’t a constant reminder of her father’s death.  He could actually talk to her.  There was an understanding between them, as Abigail found stability in Hannibal and he cultivated concerns and hope for her wellbeing.  It was healthier and less complex than his entrance into Abigail’s life, Will reasoned.  

            Will cleared the plates, delicately placing Abigail’s supper into a container, and left to meet with Hannibal.  Perhaps he would broach the issue of moving tonight. 

           

* * *

 

 

            Abigail was in bed by the time Will returned home.  Too restless to sleep, she attuned her ears to Will’s movements through the house.  A few of the dogs rose to follow him at the sound of the keys in the door. Abigail heard the soft clicks on the linoleum and guessed that only Terrence and Lucy were padding alongside him.

            There was a slight creak on the fifth stair and Abigail turned her head on her pillow, facing away from the drawer.  She feigned sleep as Will walked past her room to his own.

            A flicker of lights, a door shutting, and the soft rumple of shed clothing confirmed Will had nothing to show for his return.  Abigail shifted onto her stomach, listening more intently.

            Abigail was at once crestfallen and hot with anger.  If he had spoken to Hannibal, he would have told her.  Will did not like to sit ill at ease with her when there was a tangible alternative, Abigail reasoned.  It was unlikely he would forgo bringing her any news regardless of the hour. 

            It wasn’t even that late.

            Abigail smothered a huff of irritation into her pillow and continued listening.

            Will didn’t sleep. She knew, more than the others, that that statement wasn’t an exaggeration.  As most, he would sleep two or three hours a night. Abigail had caught him napping at odd hours and within the first few weeks of staying with him she had kept a distanced vigil over him.

            Lying in bed with her door ajar, she spent many nights listening to him twist and turn in his sheets, his shaky alert breathing passing through the old house like traitorous winds.  Will wasn’t the only person with nightmares and Abigail liked the metronomic sounds of another person’s breathing, however fevered.

            Tonight the experience would be mutual, Abigail decided.

            She reached into the drawer of her bedside table, careful not to make an unnecessary noise, to grab a delicate pink vibrator.  Flipping onto her back and spreading her knees wide, she applied a judicious amount of strawberry flavored lubricant to the vibrator. 

            Heavy and sweet, the scent was overpowering and for a moment she was submerged in memories of awkward fumbling in between classes and make out sessions that left her face chapped and flushed.

            Abigail reached down to remove her panties with her left hand while cradling the vibrator with her right. She tossed her panties off the bed, and turned her vibrator onto the lowest setting.           

            She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing at how obscenely loud the vibration was.  Abigail tilted her neck to face the door and strained to hear any telltale movements from the other rooms. 

            Nothing.

            That didn’t mean anything though. She imagined Will lying stock still in his own bed, trying to figure out the origin of the noise and then his realization.

            That was something she’d like to see.  Mollified Will Graham in his underwear and nightshirt trying frantically to destroy all knowledge of his pretty little daughter touching herself in the night.

            Abigail smirked. Oh, the shame of it all.

            She angled the toy just so against her clit, and melted back onto her bed, muscles relaxing as the pleasure lapped her warmly.  He could definitely hear her, she thought absent-mindedly.  The whirring had gone from loud to obscene against her body.  Not a terrible sound, but probably something that would make Will burn up a few degrees if the trip to the mall was any indicator.

            Prior to that evening, Abigail had gone without such indulgences, precisely because she was aware of how sound carried in the house. 

            Funny, how little she cared now.

           

* * *

 

            “Morning,” Abigail chirped, entering the kitchen in a light violet nightgown.  Will, who had begun making coffee, looked up before averting his gaze.

            “Good morning,” he said briskly.  He was wearing a grey shirt and navy pajama bottoms.  He looked restless as always. 

            If his preoccupation with measuring out the perfect amount of coffee beans was to be taken as any indicator, he had overheard her late night activity.  Abigail, however, was not satisfied with assumptions.

            Wandering over to the counter, she grabbed a pear and smelled it.

            “Did you sleep well?” She inquired, before biting deeply into the flesh. Soft and sweet, it was the perfect ripeness. Abigail watched for a reaction while mimicking the nonchalance she’d learned under her true father’s care.

            Will, who had just finished grinding the beans, took a deep breath.  He carefully poured them into the filter before turning to look in her direction.

            “Not really,” Will replied. It was a delicate issue and he didn’t want to address it, but given the circumstances it was an inevitable conversation. 

            Listening to the soft moans and heavy breathing issued from Abigail’s room at around two in the morning, Will had a very good idea as to what she had been doing.  Although he would never admit it, the slight arousal and subsequent disgust provided a brief distraction from the otherwise macabre flow of his mind, though the burn of guilt and self-loathing was unwelcome. Will wasn’t a pervert and he was intimately aware of how inappropriate any physical reaction to Abigail was on his part, especially given his position as her guardian.  It was a subject he had broached to no one, especially not Hannibal, whom he knew would be obligated to intervene both in a personal and professional capacity.

            “Listen, sound carries in this house,” Will continued, “And it’s completely natural that you would want to explore your body-“ He took a deep breath.  Will was unsure how to proceed without exacerbating an already sensitive topic. Abigail had looked up from her pear.

            Her face was a perfect flush of embarrassment.  He felt twin pangs of guilt and concern.

            Looking away, he gestured with his hand ineffectively, “Listen, I’ll figure something out, some kind of soundproofing or something.  I’ll take care of it.”  He moved to the sink to fill the carafe with water, which also moved him closer to Abigail.  He felt her gaze on him as he turned the faucet.

            “You heard me?” Her face was paler that usual.

            He looked up and tried to salvage the situation, but found there was little in the way of that option.“Yes.“

             Abigail nodded slightly, trembling with embarrassment.

            “I’m going to go take a shower,” she declared and made a hasty exit.

            Will gripped the counter tightly.  It wasn’t enough that he was barely capable of supervising her without falling into deep empathic trenches, he also had to make her feel embarrassed by violating her sense or privacy in his old, weather-beaten house. He waited for the coffee to brew and then drank deeply.

             Will left for work and hoped that when he returned the incident would be forgotten.  Abigail listened for Will’s exit before stepping into the shower.  Washing her hair with a light floral scented shampoo, she wondered how much longer it would take to snap Will’s delicate sensibilities about her and arouse Hannibal’s attention. 

            Will investigated soundproof techniques in earnest in his free time to Abigail’s exasperation.  She sat at the kitchen table, sipping on orange juice idly, while watching him pour over instruction manuals and blueprints.  Will seldom acknowledged her beyond a brief greeting and aside from the initial awkwardness; he seemed excited to begin a new project.

            Abigail found his enthusiasm endearing despite her dismay towards the setback.  More aggressive actions were in order.

            It wasn’t until three nights later when Abigail slid under his sheets with him during a rare moment of sleep that Will decided that Hannibal’s involvement had become necessary. Flushed and bristling, Will took Abigail back to her own bed with little ceremony, ignoring her pleas of innocence, and slamming the door shut.  He suspected, with great discomfort, that the end of his dream probably had more to do with Abigail’s ministrations than his own haunted psyche.

            Will felt growing nausea as he went downstairs and out onto the porch to call Hannibal.  It was around three in the morning, but social courtesy was low on his list of priorities.  Dialing the number, he kept walking off the porch into the surrounding field. A few of his dogs followed, eager to accompany their owner into the night.

            The phone rang twice.

            “Hello?”  Hannibal sounded more confused than fatigued. He must have still been awake.

            “We need to talk about Abigail.”

            “Will.  Has something happened?” Hannibal asked.  Will sounded unwell, his voice thick with feeling. Hannibal set down the knife in his hand.  He had been in the middle of dressing a particularly antagonistic lawyer, but Will’s tone gave him pause. 

            “Abigail’s been acting out lately. I didn’t mention it earlier because I thought I had it taken care of, but I didn’t. I need you to talk to her.” Even Will noticed the clipped nature and desperation in his speech. “Can I bring her to see you tomorrow?”

            Hannibal listened intently, not liking what he was hearing.  Will was important to him for many reasons, as well as Abigail, and he did not enjoy the idea of her pushing him to this extent. At least not without his consent.

            “Of course.  Shall I call Dr. Bloom?”

            “No,” Will said tightly.  “No, that won’t be necessary.”

            There was a beat of silence. Eschewing Alana’s opinion was odd, particularly for Will who placed so much faith in her judgment.  Hannibal wondered if this acting out was of a more sinister nature than the average teenage girl.

            “What happened?”

            Will, hating that he even had to say it, unclenched his jaw, “She came on to me. I think she’s projecting feelings on me and tonight it got physical,” Will paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not comfortable confronting her alone.  She trusts you and I think you’d do a better job handling this than me.”

            _Interesting_.

            “Abigail has undergone an immense amount of trauma in the past few months. It is disconcerting, thought unsurprising, that she may channel some of her fear into a sexual association with you as her guardian. Your presence as a surrogate father figure combined with her burgeoning sexuality may have awakened more primal survival instincts that those that existed when she was under her father’s care.

            “You need to be careful, Will. Do not be cold or abrasive with her. Abigail is a fragile young woman with few reasons to trust the world around her.  I will see to it that this incident is remedied tomorrow, but you must promise me that you will not allow the confused actions of tonight affect your feelings towards her,”

            “Yeah, yes...I promise.  I’m just a bit rattled right now,” Will sweat had begun to cool and Hannibal’s voice was soothing and rational.  A sense of violation and shame still hung heavy in the air, but Abigail was confused and if anything, he should be worried about her not himself. 

            “Does six work for you?”

            “Six will be fine.”

            Will wanted Hannibal to keep talking, to hear more reassurances, but the hour was late and he was now calm enough to remember civilities so he thanked him and turned back towards the house.

            Hannibal set down the phone and returned to his work, slicing the meat deftly into small pink cutlets.  His soon-to-be protégé was cunning, but what she had in intent, she lacked in patience.  Will Graham was unlike the girls she had cajoled into the ground in that he was a very dear possession of a practiced killer.  Hannibal desired a word with Abigail alone tomorrow, to clarify any misconceptions on the matter. 

 

* * *

 

            Abigail was quiet in the car ride.  Lost in her own thoughts, Will guessed.  They hadn’t spoken about the events of the previous night.  Will informed her of their date with Hannibal after lunch and she spent the afternoon in the living room paging through an old book of poetry until the time of the appointment drew near.

            She decided on a cream button down shirt, navy blue jacket, and a black skirt that ended mid thigh.  Abigail carefully selected a startling red and magenta splattered silk scarf from her menagerie and delicately tied it around her neck.  Prim and put together, she looked forward to the meeting in earnest.

            She didn’t think Will noticed her exuberance.  He was civil, but distant.  Will wouldn’t look at her, but his words were calm and smooth as though he had forgotten anything had happened. 

            Unlikely, Abigail thought.

            Will’s bed was so small. Gingerly lifting the lapis sheets and sliding in, she had been sure he would wake up at her intrusion.  Darling Will and his fever dreams. When he slept, he slept deeply.  She remembered taking him in hand and stroking slowly, the soft keening noises he made and the warm scent of sweat at his collarbone.

            Will’s dreams became lurid at her touch.

            Abigail reveled in his body heat, her breasts pressed against his back.  She wanted to know if he dreamt of her or if only her father kept his gaze.  He hardened beneath her and she quickened the pace.  Abigail was greedy, watching over Will with predatory curiosity.  Sleep made him vulnerable, tonight even more so.  Abigail felt a strangely protective of him despite her trespasses.

            She had found her fleeting dominion over him unexpectedly satisfying.

            Abigail studied the streets they were passing now on the way to Hannibal’s house.  He must have woken up earlier than he let on, she reasoned.  She studied Will without restraint.  He ignored her.  He was wearing a light blue gingham shirt under his beaten down green jacket.  A nervous driver, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.  She wanted to pacify him, whisper sweet reassurances into his ear and calm him like a spooked horse. 

            The distance was still too great.  Abigail found herself liking the idea of closing it.   

            She had expected an explosion that never came. A pointed confrontation, a parental lecture, anything more drastic than the aborted panic after he woke up,  Will was reserved to a point of concern.  Abigail would have to watch him.  In her experience people often got very still before giving up.  Their eyes would gloss at the realization and their lips would part ever so slightly before the knife.  Abigail wondered if Will’s turmoil always turned inward or if he just always did as he was told. She wondered if he would fight the knife or still before it.

            “Abigail, Will. Please come in.”

            Hannibal ushered them, taking their coats, and leading them into the kitchen.

            “Will, I’ve prepared some tea. Please help yourself.”

            “Thanks,” Will moved to pour himself a cup of tea.

            Abigail’s glanced to the tea and back at Hannibal.  She felt for solid footing.  Hannibal held her gaze, revealing nothing.

            “Abigail?”

            “I’m fine, thank you.”

            This was intended to be a conversation between them alone.  Abigail was well versed in the contents of the teapot. She felt her conviction flag momentarily.

            “Please take a seat.”

            Will sat at one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

            Abigail hadn’t lived under the threat of death to be ordered around.  She walked behind the counter and hoisted herself up, crossing her legs.  This way she could look Hannibal in the eye while maintaining a clear view of Will.

            Hannibal followed her, nonplussed by the action, “Will tells me you have taken an interest in him.”

            Abigail looked over at Will, who was examining the bottom of his teacup.

            “I don’t know what you mean.” 

            “I think you do,” Hannibal’s voice was velvet smooth, “And I think we need to discuss the matter.”

            “What exactly did you tell him?” Abigail asked Will coldly, not taking her eyes from Hannibal’s warm ones.  She was an old hand at fear, but this was different.  Hannibal’s stone composure revealed nothing and the uncertainty made her heartbeat pound in her ears. 

            Will took a sip of his tea. It tasted like earth and hot stone.  Palatable, but distinctly foreign on his tongue.

            “I told him what happened.”

            “Did you tell him you want me?”

            It was a juvenile response, but it was just the kind of baiting Abigail knew would the illicit a response.

            “Is that what-“

            Hannibal silenced him with a gesture.  Will set his jaw in irritation and pointedly glowered at the cabinets behind her.

            Abigail dared him to meet her gaze, uncaring, and watched him drink more of the tea as the minutes progressed.  Soon the hallucinations would kick in and Will Graham would be out of the conversation.  She turned back to Hannibal.

            “Abigail, there is no need to be defensive.  I hold no judgments against you or your behavior and neither does Will.”

            Will nodded in forced agreement, still avoiding her gaze, “However, as your guardians, we must be able to speak candidly which means the falsehoods and accusations stop here.  May we proceed?’

            She nodded.

            “Aside from the incestuous implications of your attraction to Will, which are admittedly unsettling, this incident revolves around the issue of consent. A certain degree of consent must exist in romantic relationships in order for them to be healthy and successful.”            

            He moved so he was facing her with his back to Will and she was taken aback by the proximity.  He was wearing one of his luxurious suits, dark and elegant.  The material felt sleek against her leg.  Continuing his speech, he lifted her top leg with two fingers and uncrossed them, resting a hand on each knee.  Hannibal pushed them apart with ease and Abigail’s cheeks grew warm. 

            Will remained conspicuously silent.  Either he saw and ignored the action or Hannibal was obscuring his view, Abigail couldn’t decide which explanation she favored.  

            “Now, you may desire someone quite strongly. Someone may compel you either in physical or emotional sense to _action._ It is in human nature to want or desire that which is beyond our possession.  That being said Abigail, you understand there are boundaries.”

            A hand slid up her thigh, meeting the hem of her skirt.

            “Though you may desire certain action, the target of your affections may not.  Every person establishes parameters with how they may interact and accept interactions from others.  They differ from person to person, but they are always present.  Boundaries order our social experiences in the world.  As invisible as they are intrinsic, it is easy to misread the freedoms extended to us by others.”

            Hannibal held Abigail’s gaze, speaking conversationally, as his hand slipped under the thin material of her skirt.  Abigail listened attentively and despite all appearances was flustered by the contradiction in his speech and his movements.  Hannibal could smell the first heady notes of arousal.

            “ **Hannibal**.”

            Abigail glanced over Hannibal’s shoulder. Will could see more than she’d assumed.

            Will trusted Hannibal, but this was venturing into inappropriate territory.  Already tendrils of Abigail’s desire were beginning to bleed into his own consciousness. He took a quick inventory of his person to try to ground himself amongst Abigail’s empathic interference and to avoid being consumed by it.             

            Cloying and single-minded, lust clouded thinking almost as absolutely as bloodshed did.  If things proceeded he would be obligated to intervene, but he hoped his faith in Hannibal wasn’t misplaced and that any intervention would be unnecessary.

            “However,” Hannibal continued, ignoring Will’s outburst, “this does not absolve us when we trespass on another person’s boundaries by accident.  When you touched Will in his sleep, he was unable to consent to your course of action. Can you think of another example of an individual overstepping someone’s boundaries?” 

            Will swallowed hard.  Hannibal’s words were lost in his own state of disarray.  The lines of reality, which were fuzzy minutes earlier, were starting to blur and he felt panic rising in his chest.  He gripped the edge of the counter and prayed this episode would be brief.  Hannibal and Abigail shifted before his eyes, momentarily into Jack Crawford and Beverly Katz then into Brian Zeller and Freddie Lounds. 

            Will squeezed his eyes shut, willing his pulse to slow, and when he opened them the scene before him was between Hannibal and Alana. A vision that quickly replaced Will’s previous memory of the tableau before him. 

            “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head,” Abigail answered with feigned ignorance.  Hannibal smirked at the remark. Abigail had a penchant for teenage cattiness that he found appealing.  She was not afraid to use every weapon at her disposal.  Hannibal cherished the monster beneath her unassuming exterior and caustic tongue.

            Hannibal tugged her legs sharply, pulling her groin flush against his own.  She yelped with surprise, before scrambling to regain composure, “How about now?”

            This was so much better than she had anticipated.    

            Abigail idly reached for his thick tie, pulling it free from the confines of his vest.  The grain of the patterned stitching luxuriant flowing through her fingers.  Hannibal watched her appraisal.  She felt important under his gaze and grew bold.

            Her eyes flickered back up to his and Abigail pulled the tie taut, drawing him in close for a kiss.

            Lust suffused the air like cloves and Will, unable to find a tangible connection to himself in the haze, felt it almost as strongly as she did.  He watched as Hannibal kissed Alana passionately, one hand moving to cup her ass and pull her tightly against him and the other firm around her waist.  She fumbled at the turquoise and emerald scale patterned blouse, frantic fingers pulling at buttons, all the while kissing Hannibal back deeply.  Her bra followed suit.           

            Will wondered why he was privy to this intimacy, but as he watched Hannibal’s head lower to nip at the newly exposed flesh of Alana’s collar bone and chest the question dissipated from importance.  He found himself watching them hungrily as Hannibal’s strong forearms lifted Alana from the one counter to the one Will was sitting at.

            Hannibal eased her back, laying her down on the counter with her legs dangling of the edge.  Abigail was flushed, her eyes dilated.  He admired her soft exposed flesh for a moment, placing a broad hand on her hip before moving to unfasten her skirt.  Hannibal removed it with flourish.   

            “Shall I proceed?” Hannibal asked, eyeing her figure hungrily.

            Abigail nodded, breathless.

            Hannibal made short work of her lacy pink briefs before nipping his way up her thighs.  Writhing in his tight grip, Abigail was desperate for more contact.  Despite her protests, Hannibal took his time, nipping and kissing his way up to her pussy, reveling in her smooth musculature.  Abigail threw her head back in frustration.

            Sweat glistened on Will’s brow.  Alana’s hair was splayed across the counter with total abandon, so close he could touch if he reached.  Fevered and raw, Will desperately wanted to touch her.  Hannibal’s methodical seduction should have inspired jealousy, but Will found his carnal desires were more far reaching that he had known.  Watching them before him, he felt nothing but growing want.              

            Hannibal, seeming to sense the younger man’s realization, met his gaze and Will’s desire burned hotter in spite of himself.

            Finally reaching his destination, Hannibal spread Abigail’s legs farther apart and inhaled her scent.  Abigail quivered above him.  Hannibal teased her slit with her tongue. She tasted exquisite, he noted with satisfaction.

            Abigail inhaled sharply as Hannibal spread her lips and began his ministrations, licking long sweeping strokes on either side of her clit.  She panted above him and Hannibal monitored her responses, savoring her physicality above him, as he lavished her sex with a deft tongue and limitless patience.

             Alana’s skin was luminous with a fine sheen of sweat, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.  Tilting backward, she looked back at him, pink lips parted and eyes half-lidded.  Will’s body’s responded in turn, reciprocating her arousal with his own.

            Will was still here, Abigail realized, a point she had forgotten in the haze of events.  She watched him watching her with his hungry expression.  Will looked like himself, only fearless.  She felt his eyes traveling from her hair to her neck along the slick curves of her breast across the smooth plane of her stomach to the Hannibal’s presence between her legs. 

            Will’s unabashed voyeurism combined with Hannibal’s skilled worship only served to push her further. Abigail found lust coiling hot and electric within her. 

            Hannibal directed his attention to her clit, lavishing it with his tongue.  A flick of his tongue and Abigail thighs tensed. Another swipe with greater intensity and Abigail shuddered above him.

            Sucking and teasing at her clit, Hannibal found great gratification in the soft moaning Abigail was making above him.  She was closing in on her climax, he could sense it.

            Will could barely contain himself, so near to Alana coming so perfectly undone.  Her moans would be the end of him.  His cock was aching in his pants, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.  Will wanted more than anything to be in between them.  Alana in front of him, sweet and brave, devoting himself to her needs.  Hannibal behind him, firm and unrelenting, taking him apart piece by piece.

            Abigail’s nails scrabbled on the counter as she felt her orgasm approached.  Finding nothing to grasp, she balled her hands into fists, her fingernails leaving half moon marks on her palms.

            “More,” she breathed.

            Hannibal continued, urging her towards release.

            “Yes, yes,”  Abigail babbled, preparing herself for the oncoming oblivion.

            Waves of gratification were coming in faster and faster.  Abigail panted, trying to ride them out, she was almost there.

            Will watched her writhe in Hannibal’s grip.  He hungered for her release almost as much as she did.

            Without warning, Hannibal stopped.

            Abigail was flushed, her pleasure rapidly turning painful in the denial, “What are you doing?!”  Everything stopped. Abigail was close to tearing up in frustration.

            Will felt the switch of events as much as he saw it. Alana’s lust turning on itself sent his mind prickling with her discomfort.  He, like her, was desperate for gratification. Hers physically, his mentally.

            Hannibal calmly wiping his face with his pocket square, regarding her coldly “Do you want more?”

            “Yes,”

            “And if I were to deny you.”

            Abigail looked at him, flabbergasted.

            “Do you see how acting against someone’s desire may be painful?,” He ran his hand up her thigh, pressing his thumb sharply into the jut of her hipbone.  Pain seared upward from her hip, urgent and tight. She choked back a cry of pain.  Composed above her, Abigail wanted him all the more, despite his cruelty.

            Her face went scarlet with a mixture of embarrassment and fear, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  Abigail’s voice was a pleading whine, her hand flying to assuage Hannibal’s harmful one. 

            Will was confused by Alana’s apology, but found his tongue stilled by Hannibal’s intensity.  Her lust was intertwined with his own so he had found Hannibal’s reprimand and subsequent punishment equally jarring. 

            Hannibal had planned on leaving Abigail to her own devices to find release, but seeing his young protégé in front of him was so appetizing he decided that he could afford to spoil her, just this once  It was for purely selfish reasons of course, she looked so delightfully vulnerable on his cool marble countertop.

            “I forgive you.”  Hannibal moved a few damp strands of hair from her forehead.  She moved into his touch, desperate for affection.

            Abigail nodded fervently.

            “Have we learned our lesson?”

            She nodded more.

            Hannibal peppered kisses down her front before lowering her mouth between her legs.  His ministrations at her clit returned and the waves began flowing through her once more.  Abigail’s orgasm crashed upon her and she whimpered in release.  Hannibal gave her a few final tongue strokes, predicting her sensitivity before kissing her thigh a farewell.

            Now standing before her, Hannibal took Abigail’s hand and pulled her upright so he could hold her in his arms.  She snuffled into his shoulder, her body still reverberating gratification.  Hannibal rubbed her back soothingly, and kissed her forehead. 

            “Good girl.”

            Will felt secondhand release across from her.  Physically his empathy didn’t affect him to climax, but he fell into the same post-sex haze Abigail did.  Mentally sated, but still physically in need, he longed for something tangible.

            “Hannibal.” Abigail whispered, turning to glance at Will’s disheveled figure across from them.

            “Hmm?”  Hannibal smoothed her hair.

            “Can I play with Will?” 

            Hannibal smiled darkly and squeezed her tightly before releasing her.

            “Of course you can, Abigail.”  He untied her scarf from her neck, removing it with grace, “All you have to do is ask.”

            Abigail hopped off the counter and turned to approach Will on the other side.  Hannibal watched her intently, curious as to how her interaction with Will would play out.  Abigail paused in front of him.  Will watched her brazenly, still yearning for her touch.

            Skin bright and flushed from sex, Alana had never looked more alluring.  He swallowed hard.  She smiled demurely before taking his hand in her own.  Will felt something inside of himself ignite.

            Will’s mind was no longer overpowered by her desires, but was firmly rooted in his own.  Though he could feel her renewed desire towards him, it no longer dominated his being.  In his own lust, Will was impervious to the draw of others.  Pure empathy dissipated in the face of his more carnal instincts, something he had learned back at Quantico.  Typically it offered him brief respite, but with Alana before him it was almost intoxicating in its freedom.

            Will closed the gap between him, tilting her chin up to his.  Contrary to what he believed was possible, Alana’s lips were on his and he was kissing her deeply. 

            Caught off guard by his tenderness, Abigail rose to meet his kiss with roughness, lightly nipping at him and savoring the lingering taste of the tea on his tongue.  She could practically feel the energy vibrating off of him as he bracketed her waist with strong hands.

            “We need a bed.” He murmured, in between kisses.

            “Down the hall,” Hannibal directed.

            Alana kissed the side of his mouth quickly, before leading him to the bedroom.  Will followed, hot on her heels.  She jumped onto the sprawling mattress and Will pounced on top of her.  She smiled up at him, and he smiled back.

            Her fingers pawed at his shirt, “This has to go.”

            “Yeah,” he rolled off of her to unbutton his shirt.

            Abigail, seizing the opportunity, climbed atop him to straddle his lying figure.  Once his gingham was off, she pulled his undershirt over his head leaving him bare-chested and panting beneath her.  She could feel the thickness of his cock beneath her and she grinded herself against it experimentally.

            Will growled, his hands gripping her thighs.

            “What are you going to do about it?” Abigail taunted.

            He leaned up and nuzzled her breasts, kissing her reverently. Alana laughed, running her fingers through his hair.  Something was peculiar about the sound, but Will ignored it, favoring the distractions before him.

            Will flipped them over, kissing Alana deeply before standing to remove his pants.  She watched predatorily, arranging her body artfully along the bedspread in practiced nonchalance.  Will was more muscular than she had assumed.  Slipping off his boxer briefs, Will revealed his cock, which was already hard and aching. 

            Desire flared through Abigail at the sight of it.  She bit her lip, watching his lithe figure undress for her was more than she could have asked for.

            He caught her appraisal, but was to focused on her willing presence to feel self conscious.  Alana lay before him, ready and waiting.  Will crawled onto the bed, spreading Alana’s legs to fit between him.  Her fingers traced his jaw tenderly as she pulled him in for a kiss.

            Abigail had to calm her sensitive nerves.  The friction of full body contact, her sweat slicked skin against his, was making her feel light headed.  His erection was firm against her inner thigh, and she felt herself turn crimson.  She hoped that Will didn’t notice in the dark.  He was with her now, unlike last time, she realized.  His body enveloped hers completely and Abigail felt giddy beneath him.

            Will could feel Alana’s body tremble against his, the anticipation was echoing in her limbs.  Will smiled through their kisses. His hand roamed down her side, tracing her from breast to hip, curving under her ass to adjust her beneath him.

            Without breaking the momentum of their kiss, Will angled himself and buried himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.  Alana’s soft gasp of surprise against his cheek was more satisfying that he could have imagined.  Slick and tight around him, Will groaned at the sensation.  Alana felt euphoric around him and against his stronger desire, Will steadied himself breathing deeply.  Sex hadn’t been forthcoming the past few months, and he wanted to make it last with her.

            Abigail clung tightly to Will, feeling divinely full and overwhelmed at the same time.  Her last boyfriend had treated her like glass. Will didn’t come with the same frustrating niceties.  She liked it, even if it held surprises for her. 

            “You okay?” He murmured.

            “Yeah.”

            Will pulled out before thrusting deeply.  Alana’s breath echoed in his ear, her arms thrown over his shoulders.  He set the pace and Alana quickly met it.  Will hadn’t just watched the Alana splayed over Hannibal’s countertop to go slow, and the pace he set was just on the verge of punishing.  Gripping her thighs and kissing her deeply, Will was once again plagued with the sensation that something wasn’t quite right.  He couldn’t put a finger on it, but the feeling nagged him in the background of the enthusiastic woman beneath him.

            Abigail gave all she had, meeting Will’s thrusts with passionate abandon.  Desire collected within her once more, and Will’s cock was almost too much for her.  Moaning beneath him, she thanked god Hannibal’s tongue had gone first to ease his passage. 

            From the corner of her eye, Abigail saw Hannibal enter the room.  Holding a  glass of Burgundy in one hand, he was pristine and nonplussed.  There was no evidence of their mischief on his person.  Abigail envied his composure and shamelessly stared at him over Will’s shoulder.

            Seating himself on a chair near the door, Hannibal watched them with the tranquil air of attending the opera.  His eyes gave nothing away, but Abigail knew more was going on beneath the surface.

            For the second time tonight she was on display.  Abigail felt an absurd urge to show off. Hannibal had seen her at her most vulnerable, she wondered how he would like watching her in control. 

            Tensing her thighs, Abigail rolled them.  With Will beneath her, she arched her back and rode him mercilessly.  Will clutched her hips tightly, and groaned with pleasure as Abigail gave him nothing if not the entirety of her energy.

            Alana was a perfect vision in front of him. Sweeping her dark mane from her face, she rode him relentlessly.   Will couldn’t take his eyes off of her even as he rung every ounce of self control from him through force.  He felt his orgasm building within him, but he was determined to outlast her. 

            Only Abigail and Will’s moans and the obscene sound of fucking filled the room.

            Hannibal watched his protégé and his darling Will with interest.

            Her voice, her voice is wrong.  The realization echoed around Will’s head.  People sound different, that happens, he rationalized.  Alana slowed her motions to a tortuous grind.  Will whined beneath her in desperation, she smirked, dragging her nails down his chest raising pink lines.  He arched into the pain as it set his skin alight.  She liked him needy and wanting beneath her.

            Alana leaned into kiss him.  He fisted her hair, kissing along her jaw line then down the curve of neck.  His lips met line of thick smooth scar tissue.  Will froze. The figure above him went rigid.

            Abigail felt as if the wind had been knocked from her.  No one had touched her neck since the doctors and it sent her into a panic.

            She was Abigail. He was having sex with Abigail.  Will’s mind spun out of control.  His mind was reeling, and he felt violated and guilty.  Had this been what his delusions had led to? Will scrambled for cohesive thought, but before he could find anything to get a grip on, he heard her voice in his ear. 

            “Don’t.”

            She was tense above him and against her mental protests she could feel the tear of the knife once more at her throat.  Abigail wasn’t with her father, but considering her fear she may as well have been.  She swallowed hard.

            Will’s attention shifted from his wellbeing to Abigail’s in a second.  His fragile, young ward was in his arms and all that mattered was that she was upset.  Will tilted her face towards his own.  Even in the dark he could tell it was her.  She looked dazed, her light blue eyes unfocused.

            “You’re okay.”  He cupped the side of her face, “He’s not here.  He’s gone.”  Will tried to make eye contact despite the discomfort it typically entailed.  He wasn’t surprised she’d have a visceral response to her neck being touched after everything that had happened.  Her unsure eyes looked into his and Will was stilled of all thought.

            Will looked up at her with such honesty Abigail could have laughed if she didn’t feel sick to her stomach.  The fear faded as quickly as it had it her and she felt vulnerable in her temporary panic.  She wanted to flee, but running wasn’t an option.  It never was.  Will was here though, and Hannibal.  They would take care of her.

            Abigail leaned in to kiss him, slowly this time, and this time he didn’t resist it, despite knowing who she was.

            His lips were soft against her, yielding and gentle.  There was no rebuff this time.

            Will rubbed small circles on her legs, hoping to calm her Abigail’s racing heart beat.

            He was kissing Abigail.

            It was wrong, but whether is was his delusions or his empathy Will couldn’t escape his responsibility. Abigail needed him. 

            Hannibal had said so. 

            Abigail bucked her hips and Will followed suit.  They resumed their motions slowly at first and then picking up the pace, kissing deeply.  Will kept going to drown his thoughts in the oblivion of sex.  He felt something for Abigail, for both of them, but he wasn’t ready to examine it too closely.  Abigail kept going for her own release, to feel close to Will, and to exorcize her father from her mind.  Hannibal watched across the room as Abigail hit her second orgasm before Will met his first. 

            Abigail eased off of him.  Together they lied very still for a few moments.  She quivered across from him on the bed, trying to steady her breathing.  Will felt a yearning he would later explicitly deny himself.  Tentatively, he reached out to her, splaying his fingers across her stomach.

            Abigail regarded him with tired curiosity.

            She waited a moment, indecisive, before turning on her side to spoon with him.  Abigail took his hand in her own and held it tightly against her breast, relishing the line of his body against her own.  Will intertwined their fingers and nuzzled his face into her damp hair.  Her body fit against his with perfect duality.

            Will’s mind was in a state of post-sex oblivion.  Hazily, with Abigail in his arms, he wondered if this was a particularly vivid dream.  She sighed and he held her tighter.  She wanted him. And Hannibal.  Will didn’t know what he wanted, he thought, exhausted.  His mind clumsily fumbled over thoughts of morality.  Mercifully, sleep came soon and silenced the inevitable chorus he would hear in the morning.

 

* * *

 

            When she awoke, Abigail was still in Will’s arms.  She glanced blearily for an alarm clock.  It was a fruitless search.  Will’s breathing was slow and rhythmic pressure against her back.  Half of her wanted to stay with him, but she heard noises in the kitchen and she was hungry.

            She carefully extricated herself from Will’s grasp as to not wake him up.  He frowned at her absence, pulling his hands in close to himself.  Abigail scanned the floor for clothing and decided on Will’s gingham shirt and boxer briefs.  She dressed quickly, watching his sleeping figure in the process.

            Before leaving the room, she pulled out the comforter from the edge of the bed and folded it over him.

            Padding into the kitchen, Abigail looked for Hannibal.

            “Morning Abigail.”

            “Morning,” she echoed.

            Hannibal was retrieving ingredients from the fridge.  Abigail perched on the stool, watching him.

            “Did you sleep well?” He set the ingredients from the fridge into the counter.  Honeydew melon, apples, strawberries, blueberries, gruyere, finely sliced meat, and tomatoes.  He looked up at her, a knowing smile quirking his lips.

            “I did.” She picked up an apple, admiring the deep red of the skin, “Though I would have liked it if you had joined us.”

            “You are a greedy girl, Abigail.  Everything in good time.”

            Her feet dangled from the stool and Abigail felt content.  She set the apple back amongst the ingredients.  She hopped down.

            “Would you like some help?”

            “I would love it.”

            Hannibal set her to cutting up the apples and the melons for the fruit salad while he prepared elegant croque provençals.  Cutting into bread into thick slices, Hannibal appreciated the easy silence between him and Abigail.  She cut the fruit carefully and precisely, spending more time than necessary to ensure the pieces were of equally sized.

            “I’m done.”

            Hannibal handed her a bowl.

            She scooped up handfuls of the fruit into the bowl and Hannibal gave her a recipe for a lemon sugar glaze to prepare.

            “I like him.” Abigail said finally.

            Hannibal had sensed as much, but he felt the self imposed gravity of her statement.

            “And I like you,” he said artfully placing ribbons of meat on each of the pieces of bread, “So it seems we must keep him.”

            Abigail looked at him, she betrayed the worry she felt too easily.  It was something he would have to work on with her.

            “Do you think he’ll stay?”

            Hannibal moved to the gruyere.

            “Yes, I do.” He added more cheese to Abigail’s sandwich, “Why would he leave when he has us?”

            Abigail didn’t have an answer. 

            She followed the recipe to the letter, despite her distraction. Hannibal caught her glancing down the hallway when she thought he wasn’t looking.  Hannibal knew, more than she did, that Will had passed a point of no return; That the issue for him would no longer be escape, but survival.

            Will slept deeply in the other room, unaware of Abigail’s concern of Hannibal’s manipulations.  When he awoke he would have to confront his actions, but for now he was insulated from ramifications of the world and his new captors.  It was his first dreamless night in months. 


End file.
